voyeurism

There was a news headline a while back about how the swans at Bishops Palace in Somerset had cygnets and they had set up an internet camera which garnered some ridiculous number of hits within the first day or two.

So naturally I followed the link.

And saw... a simply spiffy pile of sticks. Very, very swanish sticks.

But the article said swans! Real swans.

So I just maybe went back the next day - you know, just to see. And the sticks were still in place although the camera had been shifted to better capture the stickiness of the sticks (and the aesthetic splendor of the construction scaffolding).

I would like to say I gave up at that point, that I didn't go back every day for a while just to see. But let's face it, at this point the swans, they were winning damn their snaky necks and I was beginning to take it personally.

A few days on and I felt it was really rather pathetic to have added a live camera shot of an empty swan nest to my daily routine of Important Web Sites I Check. I rationalized that there were a large number of feathers lying around and that was practically the same thing so really I should just stop. But still I went...

...until today when I triumphantly observed:



Swan bum.

I do believe that swan watch 2008 is officially over.

Expectant

We're about to expand our family.

She says coyly.

But no batted eyelashes because that's just too twee for words.

Maybe a sort of sly-ish smile though, something that implies knowingness and... I dunno... a bit of devil-may-care perhaps?

[right now my mother is breathing deeply and clutching the keyboard - WHAT ON EARTH have I done??]

Yes, in fact we're expecting. Twins. Child 1 and I.

Sort of twins that is, I mean they aren't identical or anything... but...

The due date was supposed to be some time this week and Child 1 has been helping with the whole patiently waiting thing by asking me daily, "so? Are they here yet?"

Sadly, no. They are not here.

And so we remain.

Expectant.

Performance

Child 1 has a Very Important Job which involves a large amount of caffeine and quite a lot of sugar. That means its siblings are surprisingly willing to visit it during work hours. Since this Very Important Job is also surrounded by Large Quantities of Books we have all pretty much decided that Child 1 must work this job until it dies.

Out of the kindness of our over-sized hearts (and not at all because we were bored) Child 2 and I toddled over to The Work Place yesterday to brighten Child 1's afternoon. We figure just the fact that we're in the same building will somehow make it sing a happy little song as it frapps and twizzles and chants the mysterious incantations that produce a Super Grande Latte-O-Cino with whipped cream and sprinkles. Child 2 was even selfless enough NOT to order the most-difficult-to-make-drink and was content with something caramelly and espressoish. With cream.

We did time it just right so that we could see the Child AND look over a few books and things before the store closed although that meant we were left forlorn outside while Child and its coworkers went through the Closing Up Rituals.

Naturally we stationed ourselves outside the large windows so we could make faces at it. And dance the Chicken Dance (that was Child 2's idea. I loath the Chicken Dance. But I did do a few motions just because of solidarity). And maybe make a few rude gestures because Child? Didn't look up. Not even once. It mopped with concentration, it wiped and shifted and generally did all the things it forgets to do at home and it didn't notice us at all.

Next time we're bringing the tap shoes, the top hats and the sound track. We need appreciation dammit.

Fly By

At about 5 in the afternoon there was a fsssssshhhhhWHOOOM noise.

A suitcase crater appeared in the living room with a five yard debris field of socks, t-shirts and unmentionables.

Five bagels, four hot dogs, a bag of cereal, half a gallon of milk, a pint of ice-cream, sundry bits of toast, fruit, vegetables, lunch-meat, cream cheese etc disappeared from their usual haunts.

a large cello case surfaced directly in front of the front door in ideal tripping location.

A steady hum of talk was heard, punctuated by "look at this!" and "but the best bit was" and "guess what my ring tone is?" until late into the evening*.

Come 4:20 in the morning peace descended again.

The Male Child is off to camp number 2.

*At which point I had to say "AUGH! You are. not. packed. I am getting up at 4 to take you to the airport. I am leaving the room now." I'm pretty sure the talk went on, but as my door was closed I was blissfully unaware.

Housekeeping

Ugh.

This is like hard work this is.

Okay, I've started going through the archives and putting labels on posts (and damn if I don't witter on a lot - when did over 400 posts happen?) so there's at least a sporting chance that someone could find just the stuff they're looking for.

So, fix your gaze firmly to the side column over there and gasp for a moment at the sheer wonder of it all.

I think I've managed to catch all of the actual Kirk Story posts although I will have to back through and make sure I didn't miss anything. I might add a second, more limiting label for the bare bones of the story in case someone only wants the slightly depressing skeleton and not the bits where we're trading over the back wall of Russian bases in East Germany or falling off mountain bikes and things.

Posts that mention Kirk are marked... wait for it... Kirk. Which is irritating actually because often times the mentions are minor asides and have nothing to do with the meat of the post (and dammit ALL my posts are meaty) so the labels are so far utterly arbitrary. I might go back through and make it more systematic...

The Lazy hit about that point so other topics aren't fleshed out at all particularly as I was about halfway through when I realized I'd probably do well to break out things like CID, army, air force, Iraq, hostages and frankly I was too darn lazy to go back again. It'll probably be fixed though because the Lazy is even now having a furious argument with the Obsessive-Compulsive and I have a feeling the OCD will give the Lazy a smack-down.

I think I'll take the rest of my personalities out for a drink while they sort that out.

Hush

The male child is away - left yesterday morning.

It has ended up with five weeks of camps this summer using the simple technique of signing every piece of paper that passed under its nose. It spent the first few weeks after school got out lolling on the couch in the mornings and then spinning things all afternoon (and playing hide and seek. And wrestling. and doing other "team building" activities). But no more. It's leadership camps and ground school for the rest of the summer.

The refrigerator has remained stocked for an entire day. There was no percussive clapping or random thumping on surfaces. No one took the broom/hammer/shower rod out to the back yard and left it there to be watered by the sprinklers. Socks have not sprouted like mushrooms under the ottoman or the curtain.* We have not been serenaded at odd hours with choice bits of Sweeney Todd and no one has pulled out a cello to see if they can pick out the Band of Brothers theme song. The Highly Reactive Sibling has gone un-harassed, its buttons remaining un-pushed, its personal space pristine.

It's not like home at all.

*That's not entirely true. The sprouting has slowed considerably, and is no longer a dingy grey and crunchy. Now it's all red with polka dots or blue with little stripes.

Fraud

Mind the whiplash, we're about to switch voices and topics again (sorry, still haven't had time to organize this mess...)

There's an article on BBC news here alleging that $23 billion dollars has been misused, stolen or "just not properly accounted for" in Iraq.

$23 billion.

I'm trying to understand that number in a reasonable way but it's simply too large.

$23 billion.

Apparently there's what the BBC is calling a "gagging order" (which I think is a lovely phrase and far more interesting than gag order. I quite like the idea but mostly if it's applied to the people perpetrating the fraud - "Oi! You! GAG!!") which means 70 court cases cannot even be discussed.

70 court cases of fraud.

70.

There are some frightening numbers being flung around here aren't there?

Keep in mind that the government that has apparently happily tossed around $23 billion that it's (also apparently) not terribly concerned about finding again is the same government that did not follow its own laws to ensure that contractors working in the area were properly protected.

I wonder how much that would have cost?

Saved by Target

Oh thank goodness.

First of all I can't in good conscience do an I-hate-the-heat post when actually the wind kicked up last night and this morning it was RAINING and COOL and FABULOUS. By the way, I'm totally taking credit for that. The headlines will read, "Global Warming Reversed By Courageous Blogger! Threat of Weather Related Whining Produces Record Cooling! Nobel Committee Seriously Considering Blogger's Request to Add Propeller Beanie to Prize Package!"

But second something wonderful happened yesterday. I went to Target (that wasn't it) with Child 3 (which was nice, but that wasn't it either) and as we passed the charming, chortling baby (also delightful, still not it) I saw it. IT. The thing. THE THING. It's here. Really, click the link, go check it out and then decide if this is not a miraculous gift to blogging?

But. I've read at least three of the lines of text on that home page and I think this company has missed a serious marketing opportunity here. What does the owner of a Mangroomer need?

Stencils:

Got Nuthin

Seriously. No interesting people with varying religious messages, no combative panhandlers or bizarrely dressed professors (although I can't WAIT to see the frumpy transvestite again because that's something that totally needs recording), no soulful singers even or entertaining chalk messages. Honestly I thought hard about posting about a dog I pass all the time of which can be said, "there's a dog. I pass the dog. It is cute."

Even the Children haven't spouted fantastic one-liners lately which, frankly, I think is terribly ungrateful of them. I do pay the rent, after all, is it too much to ask them to provide me with blog fodder? Kids these days.

Which leaves me sitting here and wondering if I can write yet one more post about how horribly hot it is 'round here and how I haaaaate the heat and suddenly I find that I can hear my own whiny voice echoing in my ears and honestly I'm not willing to inflict that on the internet because it even makes me want to smack the back of my head.

I'm not making any promises about tomorrow though.

Conclusions

Child 2 and I had an involved and intelligent discussion yesterday about romantic archetypes in literature and popular culture - you know, as you do.

Because it was Child 2 and me this discussion was naturally extremely erudite and thoughtful. We brought up examples, made comparisons and supported our arguments with brilliance. Finally we reached a firm and undeniable conclusion.

Ms. Piggy totally didn't deserve Kermit the Frog.

Day Off

Three day weekend. Whole day off.

7:00 AM Not awake. I'm not. I can sleep in, will sleep in, I am NOT AWAKE.

7:05 I mean it.

7:10 Fine. Am awake. But I'm in bed. See? Right here. Lying down. Eyes... open damn it. What is it with sun on days off?

7:11 Up. But am going to be grumpy with anyone I see for the next hour or so because I should be asleep since it's my day off.

7:12 Maybe I should wake up the kids so I can have someone to be grumpy at.

7:13 Are you insane??

7:15 Fine. But I'm not going to work. This is my day off. I can...

7:17 ...

7:18 Okay, but I'm working IN BED

8:00 No sound from the Recently Gainfully Employed Child who needs to go fill out paperwork. Child should be allowed to make its own mistakes.

8:01 WAKE UP CHILD!!

8:02 Oh. You had your alarm set. I knew that. Well, we're leaving in 45 minutes.

8:44 Hmmm... maybe I should get dressed...

9:00 Book store! And I'm being diligent and getting work done by researching! I'm so good.

9:05 Oooooh - art book....

10:00 Right, research, off I... ooooh! Other art book!

11:00 Oh. Child is done. Darn. I was just about to do all that research too.

11:15 Read to Children - their choice: Band of Brothers. Holland, France, Bastogne.

1:00 Work. Must work. Children far too entertaining and must be avoided. Retreat and firmly open laptop.

2:00 #$%$# CSS! Why is that div 2 pixels to the left of the div below? I should figure this out. I wonder what the Children are doing.

3:00 Two of the Children have abandoned me! Do they have no sense of their responsibilities? Must salve wounded feelings by poking Child 2 and making it yelp.

3:05 Child 2 very uncooperative. Laptop is singing forlornly in other room. Work.

5:30 Have resolved CSS! CSS is brilliant! I am brilliant!

6:00 Sudden cold feeling in stomach - have I any clean clothes at all for work tomorrow? Should maybe investigate hamper.

6:05 Why do Children feel laundry floor and inside and top of dryer are clothes storage areas? Think of caustic remarks for Children but realize some clothes are mine. Darn.

6:10 Very virtuous. Laundry done, CSS wrangled, Children looking intelligent and reasonably clothed and fed. Will not think about long list of small irritating changes that need making to that style sheet and all those graphics.

6:15 Must improve method of not thinking of things

6:20 OKAY will make small niggling changes but will also put on art commentary from film in background because IT'S MY DAY OFF

8:00 Take break to remind Children for 8th time of schedule for tomorrow.

9:00 Why do small niggling changes take so long?

9:30 Check small niggling changes in browsers.

9:35 @#$@#$ browser people! Why can't we all get along?

11:00 Browsers resolved. Mostly. Am brilliant. Browser people should be finely minced and fed to endangered carnivores thus accomplishing two things for the betterment of the world.

11:05 Ah... book? Read? Oh. Work tomorrow. Early.

Stupid day off.

Film Come to Life

"Obama in top secret search for running mate!"

"______'s top secret wedding! [complete with top secret posed picture and top secret interview"

"_______'s secret agony!"

You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Inigo Montoya

Commencing

I like that we use "commencement" when we talk about graduation from high school. I like that it's more about beginning than ending.

There were over 460 seniors in Child 1's class this year. Over 460 red gowns and red mortar boards dutifully trailed down the steep concrete sides of the huge college gym (many of the girls managing it in teetery high heels which I found most impressive). Over 460 of them sat patiently and listened to speeches and songs, really only wanting to walk through that line, hold on to that small, red folder and be told they could move their tassels from left to right.

Only one of them was Child 1.

The child who isn't a child any more. The cautious, careful, concerned child who has become a confident, beautiful, talented adult.

Whom I am infinitely proud of.

Who has been patient all year with being an "it," but who asked me to share this with you, who have read and emailed and commented.

This is Child 1.


And she is beginning something wonderful.

Me Day

Kirk knew I was a little grim about mother's day. I didn't want flowers, I didn't want to be taken out for brunch and I didn't want a store-bought card celebrating the fact that I had successfully bred. I did accept the various candle holders/flower pots/pencil jars that inevitably wandered home from school around this time of year, but that was because my Children are School Craft Geniuses and I am an art lover.

So one year Kirk came up with his solution to the problem. Mother's day we would loftily ignore as per my request. However the day AFTER that he declared to be My Name Day, a day totally unrelated to fruitful loins or successful lack of infanticide. A day on which he could take me out to dinner without hearing me snark about Hallmark holidays. A day he could give me a gift just. for. me.

The very first year he presented me with a circular saw proving just how well he knew me.

There hasn't really been much attention payed around these parts to mother's days or My Name Days. It's hard to really feel festive when you're the one who has to do the planning and the shopping. However, this year I did it. I went out and bought the super wonderful, lots of button bearing, two lens including Box Of Camera Delightfulness that I have been lusting after for lo these many years.

Happy Me Day.

God knows we all need it.

Promises, promises

So the minute I claim I'm going to get organized and sort things out and make all neat and tidy I... well stop blogging for a couple of days and try to pretend doing so will somehow make it all do itself.

See the trouble is I need

A) the blog for Kirk, which must then be extracted from the rest of the content, neatly packaged, spit shined a little and possibly given appropriate tags and things so those lovely souls who email me wanting to know how they can just read the fricken' story already can actually read the fricken' story.*

B) the family blog, which needs its own space so it can stretch out a little and not be crowded with all the other stuff, and also probably wants tidy little labels as well because families can just be so demanding, and

C) a dream blog that my delightful relatives don't know about (love you kids! Love you Mom!) because I keep having these deep dark impulses to write about bikini waxes and things and there are some things my family should not know. Or there are things I should not know my family knows. Or something.

Which means that I contemplate all of this and then get the totally undeserved feeling that I've now done something about it! Tra-la - effort made folks and now back to the bon-bons please.

So.

Just to say, you might not see those changes, like soon or anything. But you will see them.

I promise.

*note, I don't normally say fricken' but like I said, my Mom reads this blog and she doesn't know I know those words. Plus my kids read it and they DEFINITELY don't know those words. Particularly since I never, ever use them in their presence. Especially when driving. Ever. Right kids?

Susie Dow - New Article

Susie Dow, who blogs about Kirk and Ryan Manelick at MissingMan has written another article for ePluribus Media about her theory on Kirk's disappearance. You can read the full article here.

Also, there will probably be some changes 'round these parts soon. I started this blog simply to write Kirk's story but, obviously, family life and personal things crept in. Things are a little confusing as I whiz from stories about the Second Coming of John the Baptist as announced by placard to serious stuff about missing persons, about Iraq and about Kirk.

So, I think it might be time to divide things out a little. I'm not sure exactly what form that will take, but rest assured I'll let you all know what's going on so you can find what you're looking for (and ignore the rest).

Superhero

The male child has a super power.

Well, it has several along the lines of Constant and Irritating Noise and Eating By Means of Total Devastation of All Foodstuffs and things like that but most males its age have those. No, it has a special super power, one it has always had. It is a pedant.

Like: PEDant Man! (musical theme riff, spiffy costume of orange tights with "P" emblazoned on chest).

I used to say he acted in support of pedantism to which Kirk would reply, "that's pedantry I think." Gee, I wonder where Male Child got it?

However it is an ism with this Child. It's a full-on, emotionally charged belief system. That belief system goes something like: Things Should Be Correct! And I Know What Is Correct.

It even has a catch phrase. It goes, "Well, but actually..."

There are a couple of minor problems with this.

First, the Male Child, while totally convinced of its own erudition and wisdom is, dare I say it, not always right.

Second, even in total and complete ignorance the Male Child is happy to state absolutely and with assurance that Thus Is So.

Fortunately it (whom we often refer to as Pedanto) is also happy to learn the real truth (as opposed to The Definitively But Ignorantly Stated "Truth") even if it does take bar charts, PowerPoint presentations and judicious application of hefty blunt objects to get the point across.

Pedanto, a few things I would really like you to learn:

A. Concussed persons should not climb. Nor should they spin things. Nor should they bounce on the furniture.

B. When the mother of the concussed person tells it to eat something very simple first to see if it is going to throw up, the concussed person should not wolf down a cinnamon-raisin bagel while waiting for said simple food to heat up. This, oddly enough, defeats the purpose.

C. If a person has been recently, if mildly, concussed, it should make an effort not to run into anything with its head for a few days.

And finally, well loved Male Child of mine, when reading over this simple list a sensible person desiring of continuing in reasonable, if slightly concussed, health should not turn to it's mother and say, "Well, but actually..."

Called

There is a new man with a placard on my way home from work.

New because men with placards are not that unusual 'round these parts. (note: it's never women with placards... are we not biologically placard oriented? Or is it that we have better things to do than stand around in the sun holding a sign no one wants to read and shouting a slogan no one bothers to hear. Not sure.) There's a guy who has to wear a sombrero and carry a sandwich sign declaring his support of $3 rotisserie chickens and $2 cans of Tecate. I like him because he serves as a constant and useful reminder to the Children of Why We Go To College (so that when we get a job as a sandwich sign holder that sign will be spelled correctly and will not contain a single misplaced quotation mark) However this is a NEW placard holder.

At first I didn't quite understand his sign though. The "Jesus is coming!" bit was pretty clear, but the "2nd John the Baptist Com" was where I ran into trouble. Because, see, I'm a digital person (yes! Nothing but pixels, me - very, very attractive pixels mind you...) so I automatically thought he was publicizing a web site. I was a little sniffy about it actually - I mean, it wasn't entirely clear whether it was JesusIsComing.com or 2ndJohnTheBaptist.com or some variation thereof and that's just poor marketing. Also I couldn't support the really wishy-washy branding - no way to tell what the product was which is fine if you want to get people all excited about mysteries and things but then you have to look COOL and frankly this sign did not look cool.

Yes, it took me that long to work through all of that and realize

He thinks he's John the Baptist. The second. Like John the Baptist Junior or - John the Baptist II: The Return of Jesus (I see a sort of apocalyptic sci-fi background, probably in deep blues and cool greens, good cloudy sky and a custom font...)

Now, he wasn't there on Friday so I figure he probably got the call on Friday night or Saturday morning which would just give him time to pick up some supplies from the local DIY store (Item: one sheet plywood, cut to specification; item: assorted hardware; item: two pints paint-Moral Purity White and End of the World Scarlet), knock up his sign and still keep Sunday as a day of rest.

I do wonder though just how that went down though.

Voice: I cometh!

Him: Er, what?

Voice: I cometh! Soon!

Him: And you are...

Voice: Look Desmond [he looked like a Desmond]*, I'm a voice from the heavens shaking your very soul and yet audible only to you

Him: Oh God

Voice: Quite

Him: Is this going to involve animal husbandry or anything? Because I've never had anything other than a goldfish and it only lived two weeks.

Voice: No, no, but there are a few things I should probably tell you...

Now, John II obviously doesn't have a good PR staff supporting him. There was no escalating press campaign, no slick web site, no interviews or editorial articles. He's fighting an up-hill battle to really get the word out so I thought I'd do what I can to help him out.

John's back. Spread the word.

*Desmond, from the Latin meaning, "man of the world," alternately from the American meaning, "name given a skinny white kid thus ensuring he would have the crap beaten out of him throughout school and would ultimately have a slight tendency to religious fervor, hearing of voices and assumption of personalities of those considered sacred but long deceased."

communications 101

What he said: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH! Mamacita!

What he meant: I realize I'm sitting in an over-sized truck at a stoplight and you're simply crossing the road but I feel we've made a strong spiritual connection.

What I heard: The size of my truck has nothing to do with compensating! Nothing! It's just that the engine noise makes a nice counterpoint to my grunted efforts at conversation.


What he said: You're a web designer, huh? On the internet?

What he meant: Now you say something because then we're having a conversation and we can get to the part where I ask you to join me for a drink.

What I heard: Did you see how I connected web with internet? I've just exhausted my knowledge of the subject.


What I said: Sorry, but I've got a meeting in a few minutes.

What I meant: No. Really, no. Honestly, this is quite sincere, no, as in never. No.

What he heard: I want you! I want you! But you're too much man for me. Keep trying. In particular please lean a lot closer because I want you!

Apology

Sir:

I would like you to know that normally I'm a pretty nice person. Ordinarily, if there were no one behind me, I would have stopped for you and waved for you to go ahead and cross the street. It's not that much time for me and it's just a polite and friendly thing to do.

But I did not stop for you. I went right on past, without even a smile. I know. However in my defense:

1. You were wearing a silk shirt in a truly vile shade of orange.

2. You had it unbuttoned to expose the quite impressive crop of chest fur you've been cultivating.

3. Also there was bling. Quite tacky, shiny, "gold" bling.

4. Finally, and this hurts me to say, you were picking your nose - like up to the first knuckle picking, and there seemed to be the beginnings of a mouth-ward movement going on.

Which is why I had to look away and drive on past you sir.

I do hope you understand.